


Genie in a Bottle

by MostlyVoidPartiallySnark



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Don't worry it gets better, Episode Ignis Verse 2, F/M, I wouldn't even call it a lime, Implied Sexual Content, Magic, Non-Sexual Slavery, Ravus is not a dick, Slavery, also i should have mentioned before, but this is absolutely self-indulgent OC content, dammit I need to stop commentating my tags, end cringe culture 2k18 we're allowed to enjoy things, he's just a dork, more the fact that it's part of their relationship than anything, obviously since it involves OCs, the end is implied to take place in that verse at least
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-05
Updated: 2018-08-06
Packaged: 2019-06-05 15:32:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 8,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15173777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MostlyVoidPartiallySnark/pseuds/MostlyVoidPartiallySnark
Summary: A bootlicking subordinate presents Ravus with an unexpected gift. But there's a hitch: he can't set her free. No problem, no problem, he'll just ensure she has a good life. Easy.Right?





	1. Beginning

_They are called the children of Ramuh._

_Born in the throes of the greatest storms known to man – or perhaps the cause of them – storm spirits are as diverse as the weather patterns that give them life. Some are as gentle and comforting as rolling summer thunder. Some are cold and fierce as a blizzard. Some are heat lightning with no rain to bring relief; some are vicious tornado winds; some are hurricanes; some are sandstorms slicing at your skin. The one thing they all have in common, though, is that they must never, ever be contained._

_For to break that containment would be to invite the wrath of a god._

***

In the deepest cavern of Fociaugh Hollow, lightning curled and crackled over the jagged rock walls. The stale air thrummed with power, the stink of ozone seeping into every crevice. In the center of the controlled maelstrom stood a man, eyes closed and palms spread, lips moving in ancient words drowned out by the continuous crack of thunder. The toes of his boots just touched the edge of a circle carved into the stone floor, the pattern painted within its bounds glowing with its own power.

As his muted incantation reached its zenith, a single streak of lightning snaked into the hollow through a hole in the ceiling. Unlike any natural bolt, it crawled through the air, hesitant and curious and blindingly bright, zigging this way and jagging there as it made its way toward the floor. Suddenly, with an air of decisiveness, it plunged the rest of the way straight down, the crack of thunder deafening as it tore apart the air and flashed still brighter. Only the man's incantation kept him from being blinded.

As the light faded, silence descended on the hollow. No more lightning jumped across the walls; no more thunder echoed in the air. The bolt that had descended resolved itself into the form of a woman, who stood in the center of the circle with her chin held high. Her long hair, the electric blue of a thundercloud, nearly brushed the floor. Her eyes, bright with curiosity, seemed to swirl in various shades from deepest grey to nearly white. She wore nothing but the expression on her face, curiosity edged with wariness, as she faced the man with no shame.

In the silence, he opened his eyes. He blinked once, twice, before running his gaze over the woman. A slow grin spread over his face like ink dropped in water.

"Oh, yes," he purred, pulling a leather collar from his back pocket. Strange runes pulsed faintly in the dim light, scurrying over every inch of the collar. "You'll do _quite_ nicely."


	2. Gift

"Lord Ravus?"

"Yes?"

"Sir Loqi is here to see you."

A sigh, almost bitten back. "Show him in."

He'd forgotten that insufferable prick was coming. He may have been good in a fight, but he lacked the maturity needed to make his company enjoyable. And now he was apparently bringing some sort of "present." Oh, joy.

He didn't stand as the brigadier general was ushered into his office; it would have been polite, but it wasn't required, and Ravus was in no mood to humor the younger man's ego. But this time, it seemed, Loqi took no notice of the slight. And Ravus…his attention was almost immediately captured by Loqi's companion.

 _Striking_ was the word that immediately came to mind. Dressed only in a simple white shift, not even wearing shoes, she nevertheless had a certain bearing that caught the eye and commanded respect. Her hair, impossibly long, settled softly around her face as she stopped a few steps behind Loqi. Her eyes were dark and filled with an unmistakable rage that seemed out of place in her placid face. And oh, what a face it was.

It felt like he stared at her for an eternity, but in truth it was barely a moment before Ravus snapped his eyes back to Loqi. "My lord Ravus," he was saying, sweeping an elegant bow with a flourish. He jerked his hand with a clanking noise, and it was only as the woman behind him bowed – reluctantly, it was clear, and only as much as she had to in order to placate Loqi – that Ravus realized she was shackled and chained.

Ravus' hands were folded loosely before his face, his elbows propped on his desk, and it took every ounce of his self-control to keep them from tightening into fists. A sinking feeling in his gut told him exactly what Loqi's "present" was, though _why_ he'd thought it was a good idea was beyond him.

Still, he kept his voice cool and even as he spoke. No need to let him know how upset he was. "Sir Loqi," he said with a slight nod. "What can I do for you?"

"Ah!" Loqi crowed, raising a finger. "My lord, the question is not what you can do for me, but what _I_ can do for _you_." He jerked the chain in his hand forward, which brought the woman stumbling up level with him. "A gift," he purred, indicating the woman with a wave of his hand. "To commemorate your latest promotion."

Not even a child would have believed his smile was innocent. "I do hope you find her pleasing," he purred.

 _What I would find pleasing,_ Ravus thought, _would be feeling your throat crush under my hand._ But he simply glanced over her before nodding. "She is striking," he murmured, "I'll allow that." His eyes snapped back to Loqi. "But what use is one woman?" She was more than she appeared. She _had_ to be. And he was hedging his bets that Loqi wouldn't resist the temptation to brag about whatever it was that made her special.

Predictably, he delivered. There was a genuine twinkle in his eye as he tapped the side of his nose. "Ah, you see, my lord, she is not a mere woman," he said. "She is a rare and precious treasure indeed. A wellspring of power beyond your wildest dreams. That is," he added, a sly smirk flitting across his face before he could hide it, "if you can access it."

Ravus raised a brow at that. "Fine words," he mused. "I certainly hope they're not merely that."

"Of course not," Loqi said with another bow. "I would never seek to deceive such a one as yourself."

Ravus nodded. "Very well," he said. "Thank you, Sir Loqi. Your gift is most kind."

Loqi was beaming as he handed the woman's chain to Ravus, who gripped it just a bit harder than necessary to keep from taking off the other man's head. Truth be told, he'd seen too many captives suffering under the Empire's thumb to take any joy in having one of his own. In fact, his first instinct had been to refuse her. Unfortunately, not only would that snub Loqi, but it would also leave her at the mercy of an angry Imperial officer. At least Ravus knew how she would be treated in his home.

And so he went through the motions of gratitude, ushering Loqi out as soon as he could without making it seem rushed. Finally, the door closed behind the still-bowing general, leaving Ravus standing alone in the middle of his office.

Alone, that is, except for the woman in chains behind him.

He took a breath to compose himself before turning to face her. She raised her chin to meet his eyes, her own swirling – literally swirling, a maelstrom of greys that reminded him of storm clouds – with a mix of anger, fear, and defiance. She was wild, he thought, though he wasn't sure where the assessment came from. Wild and beautiful and…his?

He raised his hand and glanced down at the silver key in his palm, the one Loqi had pressed into his hand as he left. "If I release you," he said, looking back to the woman, "will you fight me?"

"No," she answered, the first word she had spoken. Her soft voice was clear, musical, but surprisingly deep for a woman.

He raised a brow at her. "And I'm supposed to take your word on that?"

Her lips twisted in a scowl. "I _can't_ fight you," she growled. " _He_ made it clear I was to obey you once he…handed me off." Her scowl deepened, and she sounded as if she was lamenting the fact when she added, "You have nothing to fear from me."

Somehow, he felt the truth of her words, somewhere deep in his bones. Though her attitude was a matter of some concern. Still, he supposed he would be rather irked himself if he were in her position. So he nodded again and, without another word, reached for her shackled hands. They seemed so small in his magitek hand; though he handled them as delicately as fine china, more guiding her own movements than forcing them, tension still stiffened his shoulders as he slipped the key into its hole and unlocked her chains.

He looked up to find her staring at him, defiance in every inch of her posture. The tilt of her chin drew his attention to the simple leather collar around her throat. It seemed a trifling thing, but Loqi's words rang clear in his mind:

_Oh, and do yourself a favor and never undo that collar. She may be pretty, but the results of that wouldn't be._

He'd flexed his right hand, hidden under a glove, as he'd said this. It made Ravus all the more curious about both the collar and the woman wearing it, but Loqi had been annoyingly tight-lipped. _Perhaps you'll be more forthcoming,_ he mused.

Banishing those thoughts from his mind – they were for another day – he met her strange eyes once more. "Do you have a name?" he asked.

She tilted her head, considering the question for a long moment. "Levina," she finally said. "I think that's how you'd say it."

 _Curious._ He gave her a small bow, more a bobbing inclination of the head. "Levina," he repeated. A musical name; it fit her. "Welcome to Tenebrae."


	3. Dance

_What_ are _you?_

Levina was truly an enigma wrapped in a mystery. She could talk his ear off about meteorology, fluid physics, electrostatics, elemental magic, and other advanced topics, yet she needed to be taught how to perform basic household tasks. Sometimes she was level-headed, a voice of reason among the household staff; sometimes she was impetuous, a barely-contained force of chaos, seeming to strain against invisible bonds that kept her from causing trouble. There were days when she did nothing but stand in a back hall and stare out the window for hours on end. There were days she singlehandedly deep-cleaned an entire wing of the house in a day. And whenever it stormed, no matter what she had been doing before, she could be found standing at a window with an impenetrable expression on her face until long after the last rumble of thunder died down, if she wasn't out dancing in the rain until she was absolutely drenched.

She always smelled faintly of oncoming rain.

Now she was supposed to be dusting the library – always a tricky proposition, as she'd become a voracious reader ever since Ravus had taught her how to read and write. Instead, though, she was dancing between the patches of light and shadow from the late afternoon sun coming through the windows. A strange tune filled the air as she hummed and swept around the room, eyes closed and expression unusually peaceful. Rarely did she show any extreme of emotion, but it was also rare to see her truly serene.

Ravus stood in the doorway, his eyes never leaving her. Something about the music, or perhaps the way she danced, stirred something that urged him to join her. To lose himself in the sound, in the motion, in the moment.

He clenched his hand against the compulsion, his left one, and the muted clank was apparently enough to startle her from her reverie. She jumped and spun in place, her humming lost in a soft gasp. "Forgive me," he said quietly as she blinked at him. "I didn't mean to frighten you."

She shook her head, absently tossing her hair over her shoulder. "It's all right," she said. "I should have…well." She gave him a sheepish smile. "I _should_ have been doing what I came in here to do. But just-" she turned toward the windows, holding her arms out, sweeping the whole room up in her gesture, or perhaps the whole world- "can't you hear it? Today is just _begging_ to be danced, Ravus."

He shook his head, though in bemusement rather than denial. "What _are_ you?" he murmured.

He only realized he spoke aloud when she tensed and dropped her arms. "What do you mean?" she asked over her shoulder, her voice carefully neutral.

In a flash, two choices presented themselves to him. The easy route would be to brush it off, pretend he hadn't said anything, or at least nothing important. She could dust, or dance, or whatever it was she would do next; he'd stopped trying to predict her. He could walk away and do something important that was undoubtedly waiting on his desk. It didn't really matter, in the end.

But he made it matter when he took the less easy route and repeated, "What are you? I know _who_ you are, but you…"

"I what?" Was he imagining the hope in her voice?

He shook his head. "I don't know," he murmured. "But there is something about you I can't quite put my finger on. So I ask: what are you?"

Levina sighed and turned to face him, running one hand through her hair as she did so. "I wish I could say," she told the floor between them. "I honestly do. But I can't."

That caught him off guard. "Why not?"

"Because-" she hadn't scowled so fiercely since the day she first came to him- " _he_ told me not to. You may be my master now-" this said with barely restrained anger- "but _he's_ the one who put this thing on me." She jabbed a finger at the collar on her throat. "The orders he gave me before giving me to you supersede anything you might say."

 _Loqi._ He really was going to kill that annoying prick someday. "So," he murmured, "it seems his gift wasn't without strings."

The look she gave him then was inscrutable, though her eyes darkened the way they only did when she was upset. "I suppose not," she said, and he blinked at the sudden frost in her voice. "Now, if my lord will excuse me-" he arched his eyebrows at her sudden formality- "I have duties to attend to."

With that, she turned her back on him resolutely and set to dusting the shelves. He might have stood there gaping at her forever, or at least tried to talk to her (which never worked out when she was irked like this), but a snicker nearby caught his ear. He turned to find Klein, a man who had served his family since before he was born, with a hand covering his mouth and his eyes filled with mirth.

"Oh, come now," the old man murmured as Ravus stepped back and softly shut the library door. "Couldn't you have waited to do that for just one more day? I had a bet going that it'd be at least a week before you pissed her off again."

Ravus scowled, but it was hard to stay mad at Klein. Especially when he was right; Levina's fluctuating temperment had quickly become infamous in the house. "Everybody's a comedian," he muttered as he turned to leave.

"You know, if you want to impress her," Klein piped up, making Ravus freeze in his tracks, "you might try _not_ referring to her as property."

Ravus turned slowly, carefully schooling his expression to one of polite interest. "I'm not sure what you mean," he said.

Klein snorted. "Obviously."

" _Klein._ "

He held up his hands. "I'm just saying," he said softly, "that may be how she got here, but it doesn't mean she wants reminding of it. And may I remind _you_ that you could free her anytime?"

Ravus' lips twisted in annoyance as he glanced away. "It is not that simple," he said. "Her collar has the strongest binding spell I've ever seen on it. I haven't the faintest clue how to release it, nor the true extent of its power, and it seems… _unwise_ to turn her loose with it still active."

Klein's voice was uncomfortably gentle when he said, "Then perhaps, instead of reminding her of her situation and making her feel like property, you could ensure she feels like an actual person?"

Ravus turned back to offer some snappy response, though he wasn't quite sure what was going to come out when he opened his mouth, but Klein was already turning to saunter off. Ravus closed his mouth, shook his head, and muttered something about stubborn old men as he set off in the opposite direction.


	4. Storm

It was a year to the day since Loqi had brought Levina to Fenestala Manor. She was currently perched on the corner of Ravus' desk, a thick tome penned in ancient runes spread across her lap, toes brushing the carpet as her perpetually bare feet swung slightly. Every so often, she would glance from her book to a notebook beside her that was filled with the same runes, as well as their transliterations. She would search the page for a moment, nod slightly, occasionally scratch out a note, and then return to her book in the space of a few breaths.

Ravus was supposed to be chipping away at his endless mountain of paperwork – who knew commanding an army involved so much administration? – but for the most part, he found his eyes straying to her. The early afternoon sunlight at his back streamed through the window, limning her hair with gold, tracing her silhouette the way he so often did in his dreams. Only a year she'd been in his life, yet it felt like a lifetime and a breath all at once.

For once, she didn't seem inclined to catch him staring. Absorbed as she was in her book, she had an intense look on her face that suggested a tornado could tear through the room without her notice. That was fine by him; it afforded him the luxury of watching her, which was one thing he never tired of doing.

They stayed like that, she with her book and he paying the barest attention to the miniature forest on his desk, for what must have been hours. The sun disappeared in time, though it wasn't until the first rumble shook his chest that he realized it had been swallowed by clouds. At the sound, Levina's head snapped up, and her gaze darted to the window just as the first drops hit the glass.

Her grip on her book tightened for a split second as a thrill went through her. A grin grew on her face as the rain picked up, carried on a rising wind. Abruptly, she stood, setting her book down with exaggerated care. "Dance with me," she whispered, never taking her eyes off the window.

Ravus cocked a brow at her. "I don't understand how you never catch cold, considering how often you go gallivanting in the rain," he said mildly.

Levina shook her head distantly, expression becoming positively rapturous as lightning flashed outside. "If you don't want to, then don't," she hummed. "But I'm going."

And just like that, she was gone, swirling out of his office as if she'd never been. He tracked the soft thump-thump-thump of bare feet on carpet as she sprinted down the hall. Then the sounds of the storm overtook such small noises, and she was gone.

He shook his head and leaned back over his desk, fully intending to get to work, but a flicker of the light made him pause. That was the only warning he got before the power failed completely, plunging the room into a twilight only alleviated by the occasional burst of lightning from outside.

With a sigh, he hauled himself out of his chair. Surely he had a flashlight around here somewhere, or a candle or _something_. But instead of looking for light, he found himself drawn to the window.

Looking down offered him a view of the rear grounds, the colors washed out by the grey darkness of the storm. But amid the wildly swaying greenery was a patch of color, still blue in the dull light. Levina had already made it outside.

He watched her for several moments, keen eyes tracking the rhythm only she could understand. Only two aspects of her dance remained constant: she would fling her arms out when lightning flashed, sometimes seeming to anticipate the light, and then spin like a dervish while the thunder cracked or rumbled or tore through the sky. Sometimes he caught a glimpse of her face as she turned toward the house, and even from this distance, she looked…happy. No, not happy: _overjoyed._

He shook his head, a small, fond smile touching his lips, before turning back toward his desk. He really needed to find a light. But in the next flash of lightning, her notebook caught his eye. He snatched it up, practically vibrating with tension, praying another bolt would show him he'd seen what he thought he saw.

Apparently the gods were feeling gracious toward him today, because the next round of lightning lingered, cracking the sky and making the house shake. Ravus didn't notice any of this; all he saw was the heading on the page of Levina's notes.

_Storm spirits._

The words clicked into place in his mind, and suddenly everything made sense. _She_ made sense. He dropped the notebook without a second thought and strode out the door, navigating more by memory than by sight. He was a man on a mission, and he had a conversation to have.

But when he made it outside and through the rain lashing his skin, when he stood there getting soaked to the bone, when she saw him and her face lit up like that and she stretched out her hands to him…

Words could wait.


	5. Question

"Ravus?"

"Yes?"

"What's so great about kisses?"

 _Clatter_.

Knowing Levina as he did, the fact that the question came out of left field wasn't what surprised him. She was always poking her nose in things, always learning everything she possibly could about humans and their ways. Ever since he taught her to read – something she'd cottoned to quickly and gratefully – hardly a day went by that she didn't spend at least part of with her pert nose stuck in a book. His library was extensive, but he was still pretty sure she'd managed to read most of it already.

For the most part, she was good at finding answers to her questions on her own, especially now that she could scour all those books. But every so often, she would stumble on a problem she couldn't solve. This, apparently, was one of those times.

Hence why he was so taken aback that he dropped his pen.

"I mean, seriously," she was saying as he leaned down to retrieve it. "They're all over the place. Poetry, prose, fiction, history, whatever – but honestly, at the end of the day, you're just smushing your lips against someone else's. Are they really that awesome?" She held out her hands in a come-on-be-real gesture.

"I get the social connotations, don't get me wrong. _That_ much is pretty clear," she added with a small smirk. "I know what they _express_ ," she continued, gesturing as if moving her hands would help clarify her words the more worked up she became. "I know what they _mean_ to people. But there's…" She stalled out, searching. "A _physical_ aspect to it? I guess? Which is weird? Maybe it's just because I'm still not completely used to, you know, _having_ a physical body, but I just…" She raised her hands, then, with a sigh, let them plop to her lap in defeat. "I don't understand," she murmured, her gaze falling to her lap.

It was a familiar refrain, though one he'd heard less as she learned more about the world she found herself in. But even now, it held that same hopeless tone, the one tinged with the faintest hint of annoyance – most likely that she couldn't figure it out on her own.

Such thoughts flitted across his mind in the barest instant as he considered her in silence, his head propped on a fist, pen tapping absently. She sat sidelong on the couch in his office, feet propped and crossed on a pillow, book forgotten in her lap beneath her hands. Yet even now, frustrated as she was, she still managed to be breathtaking.

"I could show you," he murmured.

It took a moment for what he'd said to register. The words had slipped out before he'd even realized they were in his mind. And there was no hope she hadn't heard him, because her eyes had flared wide before she cocked her head to one side. "What was that?" she asked, an odd lilt to the question.

"Nothing," he said too quickly. The papers on his desk were suddenly incredibly interesting and important, deserving of his immediate and undivided attention, even if that attention only took the form of shuffling them around with no real purpose.

Though he'd dropped his eyes, he heard her swing her feet around to sit straight. "No, it was something," she insisted.

"No, Levina." He'd been going for mildly irritated, but the words still tumbled out too quickly to be believable.

"Yes, Ravus." Dammit, she was mimicking his tone again.

"No, it really wasn't."

"I think it was."

"Well, it's a good thing you aren't always right-"

"Maybe not, but I'm right about this-"

"You're making a mountain out of a molehill-"

"Am not-"

" _Less_ than a molehill-"

"Ravus, would you shut up?"

"A hole in the ground, really-"

"Gods, if you really don't want to kiss me that bad-"

"No!"

Finally, he was startled into looking up, and he was surprised to find her standing just across his desk, arms folded and grey eyes a curious deep shade. He only met those eyes for a moment before dropping his own and muttering, "That wasn't what I meant to say."

"Good," she said softly.

There was a pause as he tried to work up the nerve to look at her again. He had almost managed to talk himself into raising his eyes when she asked, even quieter, "So…does that mean your offer still stands?"

 _Oh, now you've done it._ Part of him wanted to shoot to his feet, gather her in his arms, and kiss her until they were both breathless, and then kiss her some more. (That, at least, was nothing new.) Part of him wanted to jump out the window behind him and go start a new life as a llama herder or something – anything to escape the hole he'd dug for himself. (Also not an unfamiliar urge, considering his job and what he'd had to do to attain it.)

But then again, she didn't sound upset…

(Granted, she was behaving oddly, but it was usually patently obvious when she was upset.)

And he was Ravus Nox Fleruet, for Astrals' sake. He hadn't gotten where he was by backing down from difficult situations.

(Even if he was the one making them difficult in the first place.)

"Yes," he finally said, at long last lifting his eyes to meet her own. "If you truly wish to understand… _firsthand_ , then…yes, I would be willing to – help you." Never mind that it's what he'd been wanting to do – aching to do – for ages now. Never mind that there was no way she'd return the sentiment. She said she understood, but did she _really_ know how much it would mean to him if they…

Then again, did he really know that, either?

She regarded him in silence for a long moment, that inscrutable expression still on her face, his heart hammering so hard in his chest he wouldn't have been surprised if it shot out across the desk. Finally, she nodded, though more in a thoughtful way than by way of acquiescence. With that, her gaze turned toward the window and went distant, as if she was lost in thought. She drifted around the desk and past him; he turned in his chair to track her progress as she moved to ponder the world on the other side of the glass. With the late afternoon sunlight slanting over her face, she looked like a goddess out of some classical painting. The thought soothed his racing heart; a small smile curled his lips unbidden. _What are you thinking about?_ he wondered.

"I'm thinking," she hummed – he started, realizing he'd spoken aloud – "that I'd like to take you up on your offer."

 _That_ really startled him. He was on his feet and moving toward her before he quite knew it. "You're certain?" he asked, not daring to hope.

She nodded. "Like I said," she murmured, "I know what they _mean_." She half turned to meet his gaze, her small smile shyer than any look he'd ever seen on her face. "And I think if I'm going to find the answer to my question with anyone…I'd like it very much if it were with you."

To that, he had no answer. At least, not with words. He reached for her with one hand – the right one, the one that would feel her on its skin – and as she turned to meet him, his fingers brushed her cheek. Even that simple touch made his breath hitch; he wondered, briefly, if her heart was racing as fast as his.

"Close your eyes," he instructed – softly, gently, almost a plea.

She obeyed without hesitation, the faintest smile playing about her lips. He cupped her face in his hand and allowed himself a moment, just a moment, to run his thumb over those lips…they parted ever so slightly at his touch. Gently, so very softly, he slipped his hand around the back of her neck and leaned down to meet her lips with his own.

All things considered, he had half expected that first touch to be electric. She certainly caught her breath. Instead, though, it was warm, a glow that started in his stomach and spread throughout his body. And when she returned his gentle pressure? When he felt her fingers flutter around his other arm, as if she searched for a way to ground herself?

He had never been so pleased to have spoken without thinking.

They parted even more slowly than they had joined, their breath fluttering between them for a moment. "Oh," she said, her voice small and just a little bit awed.

He smiled, still holding her, unwilling to let go. "Do you understand now?" he asked.

"Oh, yes," she affirmed. Then: "Ravus?"

"Yes?"

"Do you think…" She bit her lip and glanced down, toward where her hand rested on his arm. "Could I kiss you again?"

She met his eyes in time to see the grin that spread across his face. "Absolutely," he assured her.

And so she did.

This time, it _was_ electrifying.


	6. Confession

The sky was clear that night, the full moon casting crisp shadows over the landscape. In a darkened room, the moonlight brushed silver over Levina's pensive expression as she gazed out the window.

Ravus came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, and she leaned back into his embrace. "Come to bed," he whispered, planting a kiss on top of her head. "It grows late."

She stroked idle shapes on his arm with her thumb. "I know," she murmured. "I'm just thinking."

Ravus chuckled into her hair. "This is nothing new, love."

The whack she gave his shoulder was really more of a tap. "Well, someone around here has to," she retorted, though her smile was evident in her voice.

She felt his laugh more than heard it. "You're in fine form tonight," he said. "What has that head of yours spinning now?"

She hesitated then, biting her lip, chewing on the words before letting them change this rare easy moment. "I just…" She trailed off, took a deep breath, and then took the plunge. "This isn't the real me," she said softly, an ache in her voice. "And I wonder…I wonder if you'd…" She couldn't even finish the sentence.

He shifted behind her, just slightly, just enough to look down at her. "What do you mean, not the real you?" he asked.

She closed her eyes. "I mean _this_ ," she said, gesturing toward the collar wrapped around her throat. "It doesn't just contain my power, Ravus, it contains _me_ , makes me…placid." Her face twisted in distaste at the word. "I'm not supposed to be the way I am now, and if I ever get out of this thing, I can't help but wonder if you'll-"

"If I'd still love you?" She had practically choked on the words, something that had nothing to do with the collar, but he said them into her hair so easily. She nodded, miserable, and instead of answering he turned her around in his arms until she faced him.

In the moonlight, the differences in his eyes weren't so marked, just different shades of grey.  His hair, messy with interrupted sleep, was a silver halo around his face. But his smile, the smile only she ever got to see, was still the same as he brought his hand up to brush his knuckles over her cheek.

"What does it really control?" he asked. "Your temper?"

"Yes, but that's not-"

He shushed her gently, running his thumb over her lips. "Does it make you kind?" he asked.

She frowned. "Well, no, but-"

"Does it make you clever?"

Her brows knitted. "No?"

"Does it make you graceful, or merciful, or loyal?" He continued tracing his thumb over her cheekbone as he spoke. "Does it make you stay up all night with a friend in pain? Or learn how to bake just to make someone's favorite recipe?"

She shook her head. "Look, I don't know where you're going with this, but-"

He shushed her again, and the look in his eyes made her listen. "Does it make you love me?" he asked, his voice even gentler.

Her eyes widened at that. "No," she breathed. "Gods, no. That's…"

He raised his eyebrows in her silence. "Then why on earth would I not still love you without it?"

She opened her mouth. Closed it again. Finally, she huffed a laugh and buried her face in his chest. "You're impossible," she mumbled, though she couldn't wipe the smile from her face.

Softly, he planted a kiss on the back of her head. "I simply don't believe in wallowing in what-ifs," he replied.

She snorted. "Since when?"

He was quiet for so long she didn't think he was going to answer. Then, almost inaudibly: "Since you gave me a future worth hoping for."


	7. Revelation

It was one of those days. Cook was chasing interlopers out of the kitchen with a rolling pin, Maria was flitting around with a feather duster and a panicked expression, and Klein was nowhere to be found, though he left evidence of his passing in the form of straightened doilies and swept-up dust piles in Maria's wake. Tensions always ran high in advance of Imperial company, but with the Chancellor himself due to arrive that evening, the stress was truly beginning to mount.

Levina stood in the bedroom she shared with Ravus, eyeing her reflection. "I know how you feel about the Chancellor," Ravus had said in the weeks leading up to this visit, "but I would like you to be there. And _not_ as a servant."

Sourly, she thought she might have been more comfortable playing the servant role. At least that was familiar, if not entirely pleasant. And the clothes were less constricting. Although she had to admit the way the dark blue silk clung to her curves wasn't _entirely_ unpleasant.

At least Ravus wasn't making her wear heels.

Think of the devil and he shall appear. The Imperial High Commander slipped into the reflection over her shoulder, and for a split second, she saw the cold Ravus the Empire knew. Then he took her in, really looked at her, and unabashed awe overtook his face. The temptation was to look away, but instead she held her head high and offered him a coy smirk.

He tore his gaze from hers, Adam's apple visibly bobbing, and her smirk became victorious. "Do you like it?" he mumbled before clearing his throat.

Suppressing a chuckle, she turned to face him. "I do," she said honestly. She toyed with a loose strand of her hair, half braided up for the evening. "Thank you, Ravus," she said softly.

He simply shook his head. "I've done nothing worth thanking," he said. "Yet."

Something in his voice made her cock her head and draw her brows together. "Ravus," she said suspiciously, "what are you plotting?"

"Nothing," he said, something of a smirk on his lips as he stepped toward her and finally met her eyes. "Only to give you this."

He reached into his coat pocket and procured a folded piece of paper, which he placed almost reverently in her outstretched hand. Frowning, she unfolded it and scanned the contents. Then her grip tightened until she was clutching it with both hands as she reread it, then reread it again. Finally, trembling slightly, she looked up at Ravus once more.

"Are you sure this is right?" she asked, almost choking on the words.

"As sure as I can be," he replied. "I've cross-checked it with every resource I know of on the matter. It may be no guarantee, but it _should_ work."

 _Blood for the making, blood for the breaking,_ she thought as she looked back at the paper and read it one more time. _Blood of the bound and of the binder shall release those bound by any magic._ Could it really be that simple?

Finally, she took a deep breath and carefully refolded the paper. "Okay," she said, mostly to herself. "We…we can't do anything about it now." It hurt to admit, but tonight was too important to risk.

Ravus nodded agreement. "I know," he said. "But I wanted you to know there was – there _may be_ a way."

She nodded, still in a daze. "Right," she murmured. "I…thank you. Thank you," she repeated more emphatically as her eyes filled with tears, which she swallowed back before they could fall. Instead she offered him a smile, shaky but filled with a cautious hope.

The smile he returned to her was soft, affectionate – everything he hid from his Imperial overlords. "Shall we, love?" he said, offering her his arm.

She took it resolutely. "Let's," she replied.

They didn't make it two steps before the lights went out.

Immediately, they froze. "No storm," she said just as Ravus hissed "This is unnatural."

They shared a look, barely visible in the gloom, and darted out the door just as the gunfire started.


	8. Storm II

They had known his insubordination wouldn't go unnoticed forever. They had plans in place, contingencies for their contingencies. They had trained for this. They were prepared.

That didn't make it easy.

Levina had stepped over too many bodies to reach the servants' quarters, where she found most of the household staff huddled. She herded them out secret doors and through hidden paths, reminding them of their plans, comforting them in their panic. She counted as they went, had kept track of the bodies she'd seen. One was missing.

She deviated from the plan.

Maria was trembling in a corner of the kitchen, had stumbled in through the darkness long after Cook and the others had left. Levina wrapped an arm around the old woman and helped her on her way, guiding her away from the invading troopers, keeping her as calm and quiet as possible. The trip was nerve-wracking, but they had finally almost made it.

She was ushering Maria through a hidden door when a familiar voice called from the end of the hall, "Stop right there!"

She froze. Not because she was forced to – that compulsion was gone – but to keep herself from doing something hasty. "Go," she hissed to Maria, already through the door. "I'll be right behind you."

The old woman nodded, retreated, shut the door behind her, and Levina was alone with Loqi.

He ambled down the hall toward her, seeming unconcerned with Maria's departure. "Look at you," he said. "I wasn't expecting you to last this long. And I can't help but wonder-" he swept his eyes over her, giving her the urge to cross her arms over her chest- "what did you do to get _that_?"

His smirk glittered with malice. "I guess the rumors were true."

She tensed at that, but she kept her chin high. "What do you want?" she spat. "I'm not your pet anymore."

Loqi snorted; he was close enough to touch now. "Oh, please," he said, reaching out to brush her face in a mockery of a caress. Every instinct screamed for her to back away, to lash out, but she remained still. "We both know you're still mine. I was the one who bound you in this-" he swept his eyes over her again, prompting a reflexive shiver- " _delicious_ form." He smirked. "I got dibs," he murmured.

That was too much for Levina. Her eyes flashed and she struck out at him, aiming rigid fingers at the soft flesh of his throat. His soldier's reflexes saved him and he jerked back, catching her hand with wide eyes.

"Oh ho ho!" he crowed, clearly startled but grinning all the same. "Still as fiesty as ever, huh, sweetheart?"

"Don't call me that," she growled, trying to yank her hand back.

Loqi held fast. In fact, he pulled her closer, his eyes narrowing into a vicious grin. "What, does it _bother_ you, your highness?" he said, mockery dripping from his words. "I forgot I was talking to a princess now. Or are you just a _former_ prince's whore?"

It wasn't clear which insult it was that finally got to her, but whatever it was, she forgot her restraint in that instand and lashed out with her free hand. In the same instant, Loqi unsheathed a dagger and plunged it into her stomach, stopping her cold for the second time that night.

As she hunched over the blade in her gut, eyes wide, only capable of strangled noises in her shock, he chuckled darkly. "I should thank you," he purred. "I never dreamed you would be such a perfect distraction for the High Commander." He cupped her face with his bloody hand – _her_ blood – and the smile he gave her was almost affectionate. "It's just a shame to waste such a lovely toy," he murmured.

Then he frowned as she wheezed, the sound slowly turning into a laugh. "What," he snapped, "you looking forward to death that much?"

"Yes," she whispered hoarsely. "But not mine."

Her hand moved a third time, too quick for the eye to follow. He jerked away, but not before her nails laid open his cheek, drawing parallel furrows in his skin. Blood welled quickly to the surface as he stumbled away, clutching his cheek and cursing.

"You little bitch!" he hissed, drawing another dagger. "I was going to offer you mercy!"

She laughed again, stronger now, which gave him pause. She straightened and pulled the blade from her belly, heedless of the blood that spilled onto the floor. "Funny," she said as she reached toward her neck with her bloody hand, the one that held his blood under her nails. "I wasn't going to extend the same offer to you."

And with a single tug, the hated collar snapped free from her neck.

Loqi's eyes widened.

And then thunder drowned out his screams.

*

On the other side of the house, Ravus found himself locking swords with the Imperial Chancellor himself. His breath came in ragged heaves, his shoulder burned from the weight of his sword, and myriad bruises throbbed from where Ardyn had tossed him around like a ragdoll with that cursed magic of his. He shouldn't have been so tired. It had to be more of his magic.

But that didn't make it any less deadly.

As any fatigued soldier is wont to do, he slipped. As any triumphant enemy is bound to do, Ardyn stood over him with his blade raised and a gleam in his eye. But in that moment, a crackle sounded in the air, the only warning before a great _crash!_ rattled the windows in the hall and Ardyn was flung twenty feet back by a great blast of lightning.

Ravus looked up to see Levina standing over him, loose hair blowing in a wind all its own, static crackling over her skin. She raised a hand, and Ravus ducked his head as another bolt of electricity seared the air between her and Ardyn.

"You do not harm him," she growled in a voice like rolling thunder. "You do not harm these people. You. Will. Leave."

Ardyn had apparently found his feet, because he was laughing as he pulled himself out of the hole in the wall she'd blasted him through. "Oh, really?" he sang. "And who's going to make me?"

Her lips twitched in a smirk. "Ever heard the story of the genie in the bottle?"

Ardyn's grin was positively vicious in the moonlight. "Of course."

"What happens if you break the bottle?"

"Oh, that's easy." Ardyn summoned a sword from thin air and gestured to her with it, a careless, mocking gesture. "You die."

Levina's grin was the only pause before she was gone. Sometimes wind, sometimes lightning, sometimes driving rain pounded the Chancellor, who gave as good as he got with the magic at his disposal. Their battle raged over the house and across the grounds; Ravus heard their trail as he struggled to a sitting position, then standing. Without the oppressive weight of Ardyn's magic, maybe he could actually protect some of the people in his care.

An MT rounded the corner just as he found his feet, and his lips curled into a bloodthirsty grin. Target number one.

**

At long last, Ravus stood over the disintegrating form of the last MT. The sounds of Levina and Ardyn's battle had quieted some time ago; he didn't want to think about the fact that he hadn't seen her since. Instead, he simply sheathed his sword and turned to go.

And there she was.

She stood just outside the front doors, soaked to the bone, her once-fine dress clinging to her skin in tatters. The clouds scudding across the sky cast her in alternating moonlight and shadow, but even from here, he could see the blood that covered her front in the light crackling from her eyes.

After a moment, the lingering lightning stilled, and she looked at him with an inscrutable expression. Then a cloud passed over the moon, he blinked, and she was gone.


	9. Rain

No matter where he traveled, he always heeded the rain.

At first it was a matter of hope. She left with a storm; perhaps she would return with one. In time, though, it became more a habit of nostalgia than necessity. He never forgot her. Forgetting her would have been impossible. And though he didn't need the storms to remember, they helped remind him of the small, warm hope he clung to.

That hope always flared brighter when he smelled the rain coming. Once upon a time, that scent clung to his sheets, to his skin. Now it was only disappointing.

She was never there.

She didn't come back.

Hope remained, but only a spark, no longer a flame. There was never anyone else; he never forgot her, never truly believed she wouldn't return. A few tried. They all failed. He lived his life; he lived through the darkness that came when the Chancellor re-emerged; he prepared for the return of the Chosen King.

And always, he heeded the rain.


	10. Worthy

"Ravus?"

…

"…"

"…Levina?"

"…what's so great about kisses?"

***

_They are called the children of Ramuh._

_Born in the throes of the greatest storms known to man – or perhaps the cause of them – storm spirits are as diverse as the weather patterns that give them life. Some are as gentle and comforting as rolling summer thunder. Some are cold and fierce as a blizzard. Some are all lightning with no rain to bring relief; some are vicious tornado winds; some are hurricanes; some are sandstorms slicing at your skin. The one thing they all have in common, though, is that they must never, ever be contained._

_But if they are, and are subsequently freed, there is a chance – however small – that they will deem you worthy of returning to._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of these days I'll write something with longer chapters. Actually, I have such a fic in progress right now, but I wanna finish writing it before I publish it. It's...taking a while. But oh well.  
> Anyway, thanks for sticking around this long! Whether you've been here since the beginning, you showed up partway through, or you just found this fic and read it all at once, thank you. Your interest and support mean the world to me. :)


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